


Healer

by aggiepuff



Series: Altered [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Annie might swear worse than both Jack & Brock combined, Badass Women, Extended Alternate Universe, Extended Howling Commando Family, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Generic Soulmarks are nobody's friend, Howling Commandos Next Generation, I mean, Incorrect medical procedures, M/M, Multi, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rating for Language, Slow Build, Wooing, all three of them were in the armed forces, because I am not a medical professional, good guy Brock Rumlow, good guy Jack Rollins, mentions of past alcoholism, please give me advice, triple agent Jack Rollins, triple agent brock rumlow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggiepuff/pseuds/aggiepuff
Summary: Annie was quite happy working as a nurse in Chicago. Did she wish her family would actually call to tell her they're alive? Yes. Did she have the creepiest Soulmark of all time? Well, yeah. But, other than that, life wasn't too bad. Then, one day, she gets a call and a job offer and there's really no way she can turn down a request from her cousin. So, she packs up her life and heads to the Avengers' Compound in upstate New York. It's a new adventure, right?
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Original Female Character(s), Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow/Original Female Character(s), Jack Rollins/Original Female Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Altered [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640266
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I have the best beta in the world! Thank you Whedonista93!!

After watching The Disaster on the small TV in the Nurse’s Lounge, Annie initiates a policy of answering unknown numbers. It gets her a lot of spam calls and she’s not really expecting anyone involved in the Family Business to contact her but it gives her peace of mind knowing that if they do she’ll answer. 

Two years into this policy, she answers an unknown number with a Los Angeles area code. “County Coroner,” she chirps. “You stab’m, we slab’m.” Hey, after two years of phone roullette a girl’s gotta have some fun.

The caller pauses for a long moment, then, “Annie?”

She knows that voice and a grin breaks across her face as relief unclenches something in her chest. “Trip!”

“Girl,” Antoine “Trip” Triplet, her cousin and frequent co-conspirator of childhood, laughs, “don’t scare a man like that!”

“How was I supposed to know it was you?” Annie protests. “Unknown Caller and two years since I heard from anyone.”

“Two years, really? I thought Maria or Sharon would at least-”

“Nope,” Annie interrupts, popping the word. “Just you and two years late. You got a head count?” That’s the thing Annie was truly dreading: the list of their dead. Phil, Sharon, Maria, Trip, and Melody were the ones she knew for sure were involved with SHIELD. Laura had left years ago but she was still connected. Everyone else she’d managed to contact, but not those six. 

“Alive,” Trip breathes. “We’re all alive.”

Tears spring to Annie’s eyes. “All? Even-”

“Yeah, even Laura.”

“Next time,” Annie manages through the overwhelming urge to cry, relief pumping adrenaline through her veins, “next time somebody better call me sooner.”

“Next time,” Trip says, “I was hoping you’d be feet on the ground.”

Annie freezes, suspicion rising. “What do you mean ‘feet on the ground’?”

“Well…”

“Antoine Triplett.”

“Ooh, full naming me. When did you turn into your mother?”

“You called me for a reason and it wasn’t just to check in - which I will feel insulted about later. What do you want?”

“Stark is setting up an Avengers Compound in upstate New York. It’ll also be a base for New SHIELD.”

“I’m not a soldier anymore, Trip. I’m a nurse.”

“I know! That’s why you should be running the Infirmary!”

“You want  _ me _ to run the Avengers’ infirmary?”

“Yes.” 

Annie raises an eyebrow, imagining Trip’s face and wondering if he’d gone mad in the two years since she’s last heard from him. “You do realize I’ve only been a nurse for four years, right?”

“Yeah, but you graduated from the best program in the country in half the time it takes a normal person, then you went to work in Chicago, murder capital of the country. You’re  _ good _ , An.”

“Other people are good, Trip, and have more experience. What’s the other reason?”

“Trust, Annie-girl. It’s all about trust.”

“Has anyone ever told you getting info from you is like pulling teeth?”

“Really? Most people say it’s impossible to get me to shut up.”

“Well, yeah, but you never actually  _ say _ anything.” Annie looks around. Her boss is eyeing her from the hallway. “Look, Trip, I’ve got five minutes left on my break. Spit it out or I’m hanging up.”

“Come on,” Trip whines, “don’t be like that.”

“ _ Trip _ .”

“Alright, alright.” His voice drops, turning deep and serious. “You’re trusted, Stephanie. People are real skittish right now. The Hydra incursion really threw everyone for a loop. You’ll be working with people who won’t trust anyone they don’t already know or don’t come recommended by people they trust absolutely. To make things worse, most of the medical and science staff were traitors.”

Her heart twists painfully. Healers should know better, should  _ be _ better. More than once she’d survived strictly because her doctors put in the time and effort. To be betrayed by people who were supposed to keep you safe - Annie can't imagine anything more damaging. 

She takes a deep breath. “I’m in.”


	2. Base Fully Loaded

Stephanie “Annie” Jones, granddaughter of Gabe Jones of the Howling Commandos, was born in 1980, just in time for third wave feminism in her twenties. Not that it mattered; she was too busy qualifying for Army Special Forces. Still, she agreed wholeheartedly with independence and not relying on the fairytale happy ending promised by the generally accepted Soulmark mythos. And, no, that has nothing to do with her jackass of a Soulmate calling her “girlie.” Not at all.

Besides, she’s thirty-six and hasn’t met the guy yet. She's had more important things to do. Like an honorable discharge from the Green Berets at thirty, getting her nursing degree at thirty-two, working her way up the ladder in one of the busiest ERs in Chicago, and now sorting through the mess of an order some idiot in Supplies & Requisitions put in before asking her if they actually need this junk. 

If anyone had bothered to ask Annie, she would have told them to order ten times as many bandages and suture thread, not thirty thousand sets of sterilized surgical equipment. Okay, so it isn’t thirty thousand, but it is enough to be wasteful. Annie knows SHIELD has ways to sterilize equipment better than any medical supply company. She will need to confirm with the chief surgeon but she figures they can keep one hundred sets of the surgical stuff and donate the rest to underfunded hospitals in third world countries. It would be a good tax write off, at the very least. 

She is organizing the storage room when a familiar voice calls, “Ha-Eun?”

She jerks around. “Helen?” She peeks her head through the open storage room door. 

A slim Korean woman with black hair and moon pale skin looks around the half set-up infirmary. She spots Annie and her rose pink mouth smiles. “Ha-Eun!”

Annie beams. “Helen!” 

Helen Cho, beautiful and brilliant, who happens to be a world-famous geneticist, helped Annie get into her nursing program. A favor, Helen insists, she doesn’t need repayment for. That’s what you do for family, even distant third cousins on their mothers’ sides. “I heard you were here but I didn’t believe it,” Helen says, smiling. “You look well.”

“Thanks! You do, too.”

“I didn’t know you were involved with SHIELD.” Helen’s black eyes look her over curiously. 

Annie shrugs. “Today is actually my first day; I moved in last night. My granddad was a Howling Comando but I turned down their job offer when I left the Army and went into nursing instead. Then my cousin Trip - he _did_ go into SHIELD - he called and said they needed medics they could trust.”

Helen nods knowingly. “Yes, there is much distrust for doctors here. Only Dr. Banner and Dr. Foster seem to be above suspicion and that is because Dr. Banner is the Hulk and Dr. Foster is Soulmates with Prince Thor.”

“Really?” Annie’s eyebrows rise. “That must make life interesting.”

Helen laughs. “Yes, very.” She glances around the infirmary again. “Have you had a tour yet, or did they send you straight here to work?”

“Straight here. You offering to be my tour guide?”

“Oh no, not me. But I can call Agent Barton. He is a favorite patient of mine and he would be more than happy to show you around.”

Annie perks up. _Barton_. “Agent Clint Barton?”

Helen nods. “Yes, him. He is Hawkeye of the Avengers and is treated frequently in my Cradle.”

“Oh, I heard about that,” Annie gushes. “That is an amazing invention. Do you use it for full surgery?”

“No, not yet. But it grows tissue and the nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous, completely removing the need for long periods of recovery.”

Annie stares at her. “That’s...wow.” She blinks, frowning. “What the hell am I doing here if you have the Cradle?”

Helen laughs. “You are very needed. The Cradle is too expensive to use for every injury and it does not heal everything. Trust me, you will find much work here.” She pulls out her phone. “Now, I am going to call Agent Barton and he can give you a tour.”

Annie gives Helen a one-armed hug. “Thanks, cuz.”

Agent Clint Barton steps into the infirmary, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black cargo pants, purple shirt stretched across his chest, and stops, foot hovering in mid air, staring at Annie. Slowly, he grins. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Annie returns his smile with a lazy one of her own, leaning against the counter of the nurse’s station. “Hey, Barton.

Helen looks between them. “You know each other?”

Annie lets Barton answer. Last she heard, there was some secrecy about his marriage. 

Apparently, however, Helen is on the need to know list. “She’s my wife’s cousin,” Clint answers, striding across the room to wrap Annie in a tight hug. “Good to see you, Sunshine.”

Annie returns the hug happily. “Good to see you, too, Birdbrain.”

“She is my cousin, too,” Helen says when Clint releases her. 

Clint grins. “So it’s a big family reunion? Perfect.”

“Everything about being here is a big family reunion for me,” Annie says.

“You’ve seen everyone else?”

Annie shakes her head. “No, just Helen, but I hear there are four more cousins for me to hug.”

“Five,” Clint corrects. “Six, if you count Tony. Not sure if you Howlies count him, though.”

“We count him,” she says, “we just haven’t seen him in years. Who’s the fifth?”

“Darcy.”

“ _What_?”

Helen covers her mouth to smother a giggle. Annie starts; she forgot Helen was there for a moment. “I think I will leave you two alone to your tour,” Helen says. “Ha-Eun, we will have dinner later?”

“Yeah, Helen. Dinner tonight?”

Helen nods. “I will see you then.” She smiles at both of them before beating a hasty retreat. 

Annie waits until the Infirmary doors swing shut before rounding on Barton. “What do you mean Darcy is here?”

“Why does she call you ‘Ha-Eun’?” Clint counters. 

“It’s my Korean name. Don’t avoid the question. Why is Darcy here?”

“She’s part of the Avengers Initiative and you’ll _never_ guess who her Soulmate is.”

“I don’t care about her Soulmate! She was supposed to be the normal one! She went to Culver for political fucking science! She was supposed to stay _out_ of this mess!”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, yell at her! She did this all on her own.”

“Explanation,” Annie growls. “Now.”

“New Mexico internship with an astrophysicist. Said astrophysicist made first contact with Thor. It all spiralled from there.”

Annie rubs her forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. “My life would be so much easier,” she mutters, “if my family could just stay out of world altering shit for five minutes.”

Clint stuffs his hands in his pockets, grinning. “Where’s the fun in easy?”

She shoots him a glare. Honestly, she should have expected something like this. Of course Darcy, little miss talks to computers like they’re people and shoots electricity from her fingertips, got dragged into SHIELD. Thank God her involvement didn’t end with her killed. “I want to see her - and everyone else.”

“Sure thing, Sunshine. The base is fully loaded with family of all kinds.”

Annie follows him through the labyrinth of corridors that is the Avengers Compound. He shows her the agents’ gym and the four different lounges, one of which is restricted to Avengers and their circle. Clint promises to add her to the list then directs her to the labs. “And here,” he says theatrically, “is the astrophysics lab.”

The labs are all glass windows and stainless steel. A tiny brunette stands by one of the machines, peering at data readouts while another, slightly taller brunette types cheerfully on a keyboard. Annie grins, striding through the sliding glass doors. “Darcy!”

Darcy Lewis, granddaughter of Dum Dum Dugan and the family baby, jumps in her seat. “Stephanie?”

Annie grins, opening her arms wide. “Hey, baby girl!”

“Stephanie!” Darcy barrels across the lab, leaping into her arms. 

“Good to see you too, Itty Bitty.”

“Oh my gosh,” Darcy gushes pulling back, “does Mel know you’re here? And Maria? What about Sharon and Trip and-”

“Trip got me the job,” Annie cuts her off, “and Maria walked me through the NDAs, but that’s it, besides Barton.”

Darcy peers over Annie’s shoulder. “You haven’t told Laura?”

Clint shrugs. “Haven’t had the chance. We’ve been on a tour.”

“Uh, Darcy?”

Darcy turns to the tiny brunette still standing by the machines. “Janey, look! It’s my cousin Stephanie!”

“So we’re telling everyone about the Family Business?”

Darcy shrugs. “Secrets got us in trouble so now everything is out in the open.”

“Right.” Annie looks around. The other woman - Jane - is still staring at them curiously. Annie smiles and steps toward her, hand extended. “Hello. I’m Stephanie Jones, the new RN. You can call me Annie.”

“Oh, uh,” Jane seems to shake herself, reaching across the space to grip Annie’s hand. “Doctor Jane Foster.”

“Nice to meet you, Doc.”

“You too.” Jane shifts her papers. “You’re, uh, you’re new to, ah, all this?”

“Kinda. New to SHIELD, at least. I’ll be running the infirmary so if you ever need anything let me know.”

Jane smiles. “Yeah, I will.”

Annie nods. “Good.”

“Hey,” Darcy bounces over, “does this mean you’ll help me keep her fed and watered?”

Annie blinks at her. “Doc needs to be watched?”

Darcy nods. “Ah huh. She’ll go on a Science bender for three days and then collapse because she doesn't take care of herself."

Annie frowns at the petite doctor. "You show up in my infirmary for malnutrition and I'll get you banned from the labs for a month," she warns her, only half joking.

"Ooh," Darcy coos, "I like that."

Annie gives Darcy one last hug and extracts a promise to catch up later before following Clint from the labs and back to the main area of the Compound.

"That's about everything," he says. "Carter is back in DC and Lancaster is on a mission. They both should be back in a couple of days."

"What about Trip and Coulson?"

"On the Bus doing some recon. They'll be back tomorrow."

“I wonder if anyone would want to have a family dinner.”

Clint shrugs. “Probably. C’mon, I’ll show you the mess.”

After lunch with Clint he drops her back off at the infirmary. Annie returns to her work of organizing the place to her preference. The doctors will probably come in behind her and change everything, they’re like that, but they’re also all on rotation. She is the only member of the medical team on-base 24/7. She’ll have help from the field medics if she needs it and if there’s a real medical emergency Helen, Dr. Banner, and a Dr. Simmons will step in, but other than that it’s all her. 

Outside, the wind picks up, blowing across the training field and pulling leaves from the beech tree by the window. She’ll need to order flu shots soon. Super secret government agency or not, everyone needs flu shots. And she should probably get some tetanus boosters to keep on hand, just in case. Maybe the bio labs have super special shots for agents? She should check.

Annie sighs. She needs to review the medical files of all base personnel to make sure none of them miss their inoculations. 

At the Nurse’s Station her brand new StarkPhone chimes softly. Annie picks it up and sees a new SHIELD memo:

> _To Whom it May Concern,_
> 
> _As a civilian contractor, you are required to participate in a Self Defense course. You have been assigned to the morning class beginning on Monday morning at 0630 with Commander Rumlow and Lieutenant Rollins._
> 
> _Please confirm you have received this notification by clicking the ‘Accept’ button below._
> 
> _Thank you,_
> 
> _Isabelle Petrovitch_
> 
> _Department of Human Resources_
> 
> _Avengers Initiative_
> 
> _Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division_

Annie blinks down at the memo. A self defense course? Seriously? She sighs and hits ‘Accept.’ Might as well see what it’s all about. Maybe she’ll learn something.


	3. Drill Sergeant

“Listen up!” the instructor barks. He’s a handsome man, olive skinned and blackhaired, an appealing scruff along his strong jaw. Black tattoos trace up his arms, disappearing under the short sleeves of his black shirt. “This is Self Defense for Beginners. I am Commander Rumlow. This,” he gestures to the big man next to him, “is Lieutenant Rollins. We are your instructors.”

Annie watches from the end of the line of nervous looking men and women, wondering if she should be insulted. The class comprises civilian contractors and other non-military personnel. The lanky woman on her left stares at Rumlow and Rollins, brown eyes wide beneath her hijab, almost like a fearful rabbit. Annie doesn’t blame her. She’s heard stories of Rumlow and Rollins. The former STRIKE leader and the second-in-command, Fury’s triple agents inside Hydra. Truly formidable men. Still. 

She slouches, deciding she is insulted. Fury offered her a place with STRIKE when she was fresh from an honorable discharge with Special Forces. Sure, it’s been six years, but it isn’t like she let her skills go. Just yesterday she went toe to toe with Melody and held her own for longer than most and Melody routinely fights Black Widow to a draw. She doesn’t belong in a beginner class. 

“If you are in this class,” Rumlow continues, dark eyes sweeping down the line, “it is because someone deemed this training necessary. This is not a class to teach you how to be a field agent. Our job is to teach you how to stay alive long enough for someone to save your ass.” His attention catches on Annie and she meets his gaze squarely. Let him see her displeasure. 

Rumlow turns away from her, focusing back on the group at large. “We will begin every day at 0630 sharp. You will start by running three miles then stretches. After that we’ll work on your defense techniques.”

He pauses, as if waiting for protest, but the other members of the class are either too afraid or actually like running at the crack of dawn. Annie doesn’t say a word. She already runs five miles every night. Adding three in the morning won’t be difficult and it’ll probably bring her a little closer to where she was in the Army. She wonders idly if teaching the newbies is some sort of punishment for Rumlow and Rollins. 

Rollins steps forward. He’s taller than Rumlow by a head and a wicked scar cuts across his left eye. “The running starts now.” When no one moves, he bellows, “NOW!”

The class scrambles to comply, sneakers squeaking across the gym’s wooden floor. Annie stays at the back, keeping an even jog as she follows her classmates up the stairs to the mile long track running along the gym’s second floor. The front runners start to fall back halfway through the second lap. Annie moves up to the middle of the pack. At the start of the third lap, she’s at the front. As they round the last curve, Annie puts on some speed. She can run a 5 minute mile if she really tries but on average she sticks to 8. This three mile jog is so slow she’s averaging 10 minutes a mile and the insult grows. 

She finishes the three miles five strides ahead of her nearest classmates and begins her walking stretches to keep her muscles limber, adrenaline a pleasant buzz through her veins. The bruises from her spar with Melody are still fresh and ache pleasantly but she feels ready to go again, optimism filling her with a pleasant high.

“Alright,” Rumlow calls from below, “everyone front and center!”

Back down the stairs they go and Annie takes her place at the end of the line, still working her muscles with arm stretches. The movement catches Rumlow’s eye and he gives her once over. Annie ignores him in favor easing down into a partial split, feeling the pleasant pull of muscles. Okay, so maybe she is showing off a little. Rumlow is a very handsome man, Italian good looks and smoldering eyes. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone with an actual smolder before.

“Can anyone tell me,” Lieutenant Rollins calls, Australian accent strong, “why running is your most important defense?”

Annie’s classmates glance amongst each other nervously. A short man halfway down the line raises his hand. 

Rollins scowls at him, pointing. “You!”

“It’s easier to stay alive if you can run away from the fight?”

“Give the man a gold star,” Rumlow sneers. 

“If you can’t run, hide,” Rollins barks.

“If you can’t hide, that’s where these lessons come in.”

“Everyone pair up!”

The class shuffles. Annie and the tall woman from before, the one who looked like a scared rabbit, turn to each other. She holds out her hand. “Saida al-Jabir.”

Annie shakes it. “Annie Jones, nice to meet you.”

Saida smiles. “You, too. Which department are you in?”

“Medical. You?”

“I.T.”

“First lesson,” Rollins bellows, pulling her attention back to the front, “breaking a hold.”

Annie rolls her eyes before she can stop herself. Really, breaking a hold? She learned how to do that when she was thirteen. The insult is almost physical now, irritation thrumming in her limbs.

Rumlow seems to catch her expression. He crooks his finger at her, a nasty smile on his mouth. “ _C’mere, girlie, and let me give you a demonstration._ ”

Ice pours down Annie’s spine. He did _not_ just say what she thought he said.

"Front and center," Rumlow growls.

Annie shoots him a glare as she steps forward, moving to the space in front of her fucking Soulmate of all things. She cannot believe this happening right now. 

“Now,” Rumlow directs to the class, “I am going to grab Nurse Jones from behind and she’s going to try to get away.” He turns to her expectantly.

Annie rolls her eyes but turns around, waiting for him to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Fury coils hot in her chest. His dismissal stings her pride and the way he said _Nurse Jones_ , as if he doesn’t expect anything from her but to stand meekly and be manhandled. Pride is her fatal flaw, she knows that, but, damnit, she worked hard all her life to be taken seriously and not even her Soulmate is going to take that from her.

Rumlow's grip is warm and strong and under different circumstances, with a different man, she might actually enjoy it. In this circumstance, however, she grits her teeth and widens her stance. She’ll teach him to dismiss her. 

“Right now-” Rumlow starts but Annie grabs him and heaves, thrusting back with her hips and pulling the larger man over her shoulder, throwing her weight forward. He thuds to the mat with a surprised shout and Annie twists his arms before he can react, yanking him onto his stomach and keeping him pinned with her knee, arm stretched up and back into the air unnaturally. 

Rumlow struggles to get free but if he tries too hard she’ll dislocate his shoulder at this angle. She won’t be able to hold him, he is strong, but she doesn't need long. “ _Next time,_ ” she snarls just loud enough for him to hear, _“check my file, dumbass, and never ever call me girlie again._ ”

“What-”

She shoves herself up and away, leaving him to roll onto his back as she turns on her heel and marches from the gym, head up and back straight. Adrenaline still pumps through her veins, fueled by the excersize and the fight and holy fuck that was her _Soulmate_.

She takes a deep breath as she turns down another hall. God she wants to punch something. Behind her the gym doors crack against the wall as they’re shoved open. “Where did she go?”

She picks up the pace, heading for the Deputy Director’s office. She needs to calm down before she does something stupid like breaking the jackass’s neck.


	4. Family Meeting

Maria is alone in her office and Annie stalks in, shutting the door firmly behind her before plopping down in one of the extra chairs for visitors. 

Maria looks at her over her paperwork. “Yes?”

Annie meets her brown eyes squarely. “Who thought it was a good idea to put me in the beginner’s self defence class?”

Maria’s mouth twitches. “A clerical error, I’m sure. What happened?”

“Soulmate.”

Maria straightens, full attention suddenly on her. “I need so many more details.”

Annie opens her mouth.

Maria holds up a finger. “Wait. We need everyone.” She picks up her desk phone and dials. “Shar, grab Melody and Darcy -”

“And Helen,” Annie sighs. 

Maria nods. “And Helen,” she says into the phone. “We’re having a family meeting. No, we’ll conference in the others. Yeah, my office. Right now.”

A few minutes later, Sharon opens Maria’s office door, followed by Melody, Darcy, and Helen.

“What’s this about a meeting?” Melody asks, plopping onto the couch in the corner. Darcy follows, sitting cross-legged beside her. Helen silently takes the other chair while Sharon perches on the couch's arm.

“I’m not explaining this more than once,” Annie grumbles. “M, get the others.”

Maria mocks salutes and types on her computer. The office’s glass windows darken to solid white and the door hisses as it seals. A moment later five video feeds pop up onto the large flatscreen TV on the wall. Five female faces fill the feeds, two Black, one brunette, a redhead, and one Japanese. 

“Vell, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” the redhead says in a lilting French accent.

“Hey, Racquelle,” Sharon greets Racquelle Dernier. 

“Hey guys,” Laura Barton says. It looks like she’s in her farmhouse kitchen and a baby Nathaniel is balanced on her hip.

“What’s up?” Jacqueline Jones asks. She’s in a tent, probably still deployed in Iraq with her unit. Annie wonders idly if there’s a way to lure her away from the Marines. 

“Yeah, what’s with the all girls meeting?” Gabriella Morita asks. She’s never been one for idle chit chat. It’s made her an excellent FBI Agent.

Margaret, the other Jones granddaughter, doesn’t speak but she leans forward, face filling almost all of her feed, blocking her Fort Hood office.

"Someone," Maria announces dramatically, "found her Soulmate."

Cries of "Oh my God!", "No way!" and "Stephanie!" fill the room as all eyes turn to her.

"Hey, why does everyone think it's me?"

Gaby snorts. 

"You're literally the only one left," says Helen.

"Vat she said,'' Racquelle agrees. She frowns. "Zough I do not know ‘ho she is."

"Oh," Helen blushes, "I'm Helen Cho, Stephanie's cousin on our mothers' sides."

"She's great," Darcy chimes in. "Super smart."

"She keeps us in one piece," Sharon adds.

"Ah."

"In that case, welcome to the family," Gaby says with a bright smile.

Helen beams.

"Back to the matter at hand," Margaret says, speaking for the first time. Her calm alto voice refocuses the assembled cousins and suddenly Annie finds herself the focus of ten very inquisitive women. “Which Mark was it?”

Annie shifts uncomfortably in her chair and points to her left bicep where the generic black words march down her skin in clean block letters beneath her t-shirt. “Girlie.”

The cousins wince. Of their family, only Laura and Annie have triads. Between the two, Laura has it easier. One of her Marks actually names the speaker: _I am Natasha Romanoff. It is nice to meet you._ Lucky bitch. By comparison, Annie’s Marks are a creepy, patronizing come-on, and a request for drugs. At least her second Mark gave her an occupation after the Army, but they all know it was the _girlie_ Mark Annie most dreaded meeting.

Darcy leans forward, blue eyes sparkling. "Spill."

Annie sighs, slumping back into her chair. It's no use trying to keep a secret from them. Her cousins are worse than a military tribunal. "Rumlow," she says to the ceiling.

"Ha!" Sharon crows triumphantly. "Pay up Maria!"

Annie jerks around. "You _knew_?"

Sharon grins unrepentantly as she collects twenty dollars from a scowling Maria. "I guessed. Got him drunk last year and asked why he calls every woman 'girlie' when he first meets them. Said it was ‘cause of his Mark."

Annie gapes. "Seriously?"

"Rumlow? 'Ho iz zis Rumlow? 

"He's one of the STRIKE guys," Laura answers.

Annie gives her a sharp look. Laura shrugs. "Clint and Natasha like him," she says. "They were both relieved to find out he wasn't a traitor."

"A badass soldier, huh?" Gabby asks with an amused smile. "Told you you have a type."

"I do not have a type!"

"Of course you do," Jackie says with a wave of her hand.

"Honorable man with a dark side," Melody agrees.

“Dark hair,” chimes Laura.

“Ruggedly handsome,” Sharon throws out.

“You ‘ave always liked _Italiens_ ,” Racquelle adds. “Iz ‘e _d’Italie_?”

“His parents are from Sicily,” Maria answers.

"Y'all're gangin’ up on me," Annie pouts, southern drawl strong.

"Don't worry," Sharon says, patting her shoulder, "he's a good man. You'll like him."

"He called me 'girlie,'" Annie snaps.

"Ah yes," Darcy nods sagely, "the gravest of insults."

"Smartass."

Darcy flashes a red lipped grin. "All part of the DNA."

“He really is a good man,” Maria says. “He and Rogers get along very well.”

Annie straightens in her chair. “Wait. Rogers, as in…?”

Sharon nods. “Yep.”

“And Bucky says Brock helped him break Hydra’s conditioning while they were undercover,” adds Darcy.

“I need to meet those two before I trust their judgement,” Annie tries to deflect. “Papaw always said the only reason Rogers survived was the serum.”

Jackie snorts. “Claimed to have punched Hitler when he rescued the 107th.”

Racquelle laughs. “ _Tatie_ Peggy iz zee o’ly opinion ve should trust.”

“Where is she these days?” Margaret asks.

“Vacation,” Maria answers. “Aunt Cora says she checks in every once in a while but I think she and Angie are enjoying retirement.”

Gaby shakes her head. “Don’t count on it. They were on some security footage when an arms dealer’s stash was raided.” She waves her hand when Maria gives her a sharp look. “It’s handled, don’t worry.”

Melody straightens, looking at Maria. “You think...?”

“Maybe,” Maria says. 

Helen frowns, looking between them. “Maybe what?”

“Someone’s been clearing out Hydra stash houses,” Sharon answers, frowning. “We thought it was just mercenaries or opportunists - they’re not very big targets - but if it’s Aunt Peggy and Angie…”

“Um, excuse me.” Jackie frowns at her cousins, leaning closer to the screen. “How is Aunt Peggy destroying Hydra stash houses? She’s almost 100. And who’s Angie?”

“Angie is Peggy’s Soulmate. It’s a whole thing,” answers Melody. “Cora was involved. I hear it involved de-aging, blowing up a Hydra base, and the reunion of the century.”

“Cora?” Margaret shivers dramatically. “That’s terrifying.”

“Woman’s scary,” Gabby agrees. “Love her, trust her, but scary.”

“We’ll discuss the ramifications of Mamma Peggy roaming the earth unchecked another day,” Laura cuts in. “I love you all and it’s wonderful to catch up but it’s almost Nate’s naptime. Annie, I expect details about any developments with your Soulmate. Ladies, until next time!”

Laura’s screen darkens after a chorus of goodbyes and promises to talk again soon. Margaret, Jackie, Gabby and Racquelle also sign off, cutting the encrypted feeds and leaving Sharon, Maria, Melody, Darcy, Helen and Annie alone in the Deputy Director’s office. 

Annie stands. “Thanks for the refuge M, but I gotta get back to the Infirmary.”

“What if he comes looking for you?” Darcy asks.

“I doubt it. I wasn’t exactly nice. He’ll probably stear clear until he can’t anymore.”

Sharon stands. “C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”

They’re a couple turns away from the Infirmary when Sharons asks, “Why do you think he’ll avoid you?”

Annie can’t meet Sharon’s eye. She messed up. She knows she messed up. Her Marks appeared when she was twelve, right at the start of puberty. It wasn’t until she hit high school that she realized how skeevy one of her Marks might be. It sounded like the grossest of come ons. She’d vowed to kick the man’s ass. In all of her imaginings she’d never gotten past the words. She always figured that Soulmate was some slimy toad in a dimly lit bar whose fingers she could break and then never have to think of again. 

She was not expecting 5’10” of gorgeous, dark Italian, with bulging muscles and a jawline that could cut glass. The man has hazel eyes. She _loves_ hazel eyes. And he’s a soldier on the base where she works. There’s no avoiding him, not when she’s in charge of keeping him healthy. 

“You didn’t see it,” she says to the floor. “I just about dislocated his shoulder. God,” she rubs her eyes, “I was in full bitch mode, Shar.”

Sharon smirks. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

“Sharon.”

“Look,” Sharon wraps an arm around her shoulders, “if he can’t handle you in bitch mode - which is your natural state, by the way - then the Universe made a mistake.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Yeah, I do. Bitch mode really is your default.”

Annie scowls. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant and I meant what I said. If he can’t handle your temper then the Universe made a mistake. But, for the record, I think he can. Just don’t kick his ass next time. That strays into abuse territory.”

“I’m not a complete psycho,” Annie grumbles as they stop in front of the Infirmary. 

“Eh, only a little psycho then,” Sharon teases. She gives Annie one last smile. “I gotta run, but I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Annie calls after her, “see you later.”


	5. Time for Some Recon

Her file says her full name is Stephanie Ha-Eun Jones. Her mother is a South Korean expat, her father was retired Army before passing 7 years ago. She was born May 23, 1980 in Houston, Texas, graduated from Duke University’s Nursing program four years ago, in half the time it should have taken her. Bilingual in English and Korean; 5’6”, 137lbs; 36 years old. 

That’s all he manages to read before being drawn back to the picture in her file.

Long black hair, warm brown skin, big brown eyes. She got the very best of her Black father and Korean mother, he thinks. A beautiful blending that leaves him breathless. 

“So,” Jack breaks into his reverie, “what does it say?”

Brock jerks, looking up. 

Jack scoots his wheeled chair closer, peering at the file in Brock’s hands. “Stunner, ain’t she?” he says, glancing at Brock. “You get lost in ‘er picture, mate?”

Brock scowls. “Shut up.”

Jack grins, wide and toothy. “I’m just sayin’.”

There’s something about the way he says it, something about his eyes, but Brock can’t quite figure it out. His brain’s all muddled. “She’s my Soulmate,” he says instead.

“Assuming she’ll have you.”

“I’ll convince her.”

“From the way she was about to dislocate your shoulder it’s gonna take a lot of convincing, mate.”

Brock turns away from Jack, refocusing on the file in his hands. He pulled rank, and a couple favors, to get the unredacted version and he intends to memorize it before he sees her again. He’s a good soldier, good at following orders. Now he’s _her_ soldier and he intends to show her exactly how good he can be. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll help him find their third.

“Damn,” he breathes, flipping through her service record.

Jack leans over. “What is it?”

“Silver Star, Bronze Star, Distinguished Service, three Purple Hearts. Damn woman was a Green Beret.”

Jack snorts. “No wonder she wasn’t happy ‘bout bein’ in the beginner class.”

“How is she not a field agent?”

“Dunno. Hey, what’s that?” Jack points to a detailed list of her extended family. 

“She’s - I don’t believe this - she’s Gabe fucking Jones’ granddaughter.”

Jack’s eyebrows almost reach his hairline. “Howling Commando Gabe Jones?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re marrying up, mate.”

“Gotta get her to talk to me first.”

“Good luck.”

Brock turns to the new voice. Melody Lancaster leans in the doorway to the STRIKE team offices, arms folded across her chest. Technically the third desk in the office belongs to her, being third in the hierarchy, but she almost never uses it. She spends most of her time with Lambda Squad, colloquially known as the Losers, and they’re very rarely on base. She says she’s gone for work but Brock knows it’s because her Soulmate is their comms and tech guy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands. She’s a little blurry around the edges and he narrows his eyes, trying to focus. 

Lancaster saunters to her desk, perching on it comfortably, combat boots planted firmly in the seat of her office chair. “I wasn’t being sarcastic,” she says. “I really do mean good luck. But, well, you pissed Annie off. It’s not hard to do, of course, and she doesn't usually hold grudges, but she always said she’d break her Soulmate in half for being so creepy.”

“I wasn’t trying to be creepy!”

“‘ _C’mere, girlie, and_ _and let me give you a_ _demonstration_ ,’” Lancaster quotes. “How is that not the creepiest thing you could have said?”

Jack snickers and Brock groans. “It’s all over the base, isn’t it?”

Lancaster grins. “Nope. You forget, boss man, I’m a Howlie.”

“Damn Howlies. All of you know?”

“The girls do. For what it’s worth, Sharon, Maria and I vouched for you.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

"It should. Plus, Darcy said Bucky likes you and Bucky stories were always Annie's favorite. If he tells her you’re a good guy she’ll listen."

Brock groans, burying his face in his hands. “He’s gonna tell her about all the Hydra stuff and then she’ll never want to talk to me again.”

Lancaster blinks at him, looks to Jack. “Is he drunk?”

Jack leans over, reaching behind Brock’s desk to pull out a mostly empty bottle of cheap whiskey. “He’s been at it for three hours and this is his second bottle.”

“Seriously, you couldn’t even go for the good stuff?”

“I’m off duty,” Brocks grumbles, “and I’m dealing with something.”

“Yeah,” Lancaster snorts, “you’re dealing.” She turns to Jack. “He’s gonna need painkillers soon and Annie is the keeper of all medications. I suggest you be the one to get them.”

Brock tries to follow the conversation, really, he does, but dread coats his insides like tar. Stephanie - Annie - his Soulmate - God he doesn’t even know what to call her and his arm is still sore from earlier so ‘girlie’ is out. Damn. Damn damn damn. His mamma always said his mouth would get him in trouble. If Bianca ever finds out his Soulmate put him on the ground, his sister will never let him hear the end of it. 

God. She’s a Howlie. His beautiful, gorgeous, smart, tough, stunning badass of a Soulmate is a motherfucking _Howlie_ and he fucking tazed Cap. It doesn’t matter it was all part of an act and he cleared the air with Rogers ages ago. The Howling Commandos followed Cap into the jaws of death and back. He seriously doubts it’s any different for their kids. Fuck, she’s _named_ after Rogers. Fucking _Stephanie_. 

“ _Fuck_.”

“Quit wallowing.”

He shoots Lancaster a blurry glare. “I’m _not_ wallowing.”

Lancaster snorts. “Right.” She stands. “Look, I’m gonna help you ‘cause you’re one of my favorite people. Annie _hates_ flowers so don’t send her any. If you want to apologize, send her an Edible Arrangement or something. You know, those bouquets with fruit dipped in chocolate? I’m sure the mess can whip up something - or Stark. She loves food, especially Italian, so that’s always a safe bet for a date, and she doesn’t drink.” Lancaster shoots a pointed look at the whiskey bottle before she starts for the door, calling over her shoulder, “That’s all I have right now but I’ll get the cousins to make a list of things.”

Brock watches her go dumbly. Beside him, Jack sighs and rips a piece of paper off his notepad. “Here.” He shoves it at him.

Brock looks down. It’s the list Lancaster gave him, written in Jack’s block writing. Jack’s a good lieutenant. Not for the first time Brock wishes Jack’s handwriting was less generic. Being half in love with the man, it would be nice if Brock could prove Jack is his second Soulmate.

“Oh,” Lancaster pops her head back into the office, “there’s one more thing.”

Brock looks at her, blinking hard. “What?”

“Annie has a second Soulmate she hasn’t met yet and the handwriting is a match to your second Mark. You know, you’re stupidly generic ‘ _Yes, sir_ ’ one in that typewriter font?”

Brock scowls at her. “You shouldn’t be tellin’ people about her Marks. I’s private.” He doesn't notice the way Jack stills beside him.

Lancaster shrugs. “I figured you’d want to know. Toodles.” She waggles her fingers at them before disappearing.

The office is silent for a beat. Then, Jack stands. “C’mon, mate,” he says, “let’s get you back to your bunk and then I’ll get you those painkillers.”

Brock waves the list. “But I gotta-”

“No, you gotta sleep off the alcohol first. Then you can start apologizing.”

Brock frowns. “Yeah,” he slurs. “Yeah, okay. Sober then apologize.”

“Exactly.” Jack reaches down and hauls Brock to his feet. “Up you get. Let’s go.”

Brock lets Jack lead him back to the dorms and only stumbles twice. When he reaches his room, he carefully sets Lancaster’s list on his small bedside table. He falls back on his pillow already half asleep, dreaming of brown eyes and a beautiful smile.


	6. Revelations

The agents’ mess hall is full of men and women at lunchtime. Annie nervously scans the crowd, tray clutched in her hands. Her lunch looks good, a mac & cheese burger with fries. Definitely better than anything she ever had in the Army or the offerings of any hospital cafeteria she’s frequented. But that’s not what has her insides twisting. 

She could eat in the officer’s mess, as she’s done since coming to the Compound, but Rumlow is an officer and she does _not_ want to run into him right now. She can barely stomach the anxiety the very thought of his face provokes, forget seeing him in person. Instead, she searches for Saida al-Jabir, the woman from the self defense class that morning. She seemed nice enough and it will be good to make friends with people she hasn’t known all her life. 

“Jones!” someone shouts over the din.

Annie turns. Saida waves from a table on the other side of the mess, smiling at her. She’s sitting with a bunch of other men and women, none with the wary looks of agents or soldiers. When Annie approaches, a curly haired man and Saida shift over, making space between them. 

“It’s good to see you,” Saida says as Annie sits on the bench seat. “I was worried after training this morning. What happened?”

Heat crawls up Annie’s neck. “I, uh, lost my temper. I don’t like being called _girlie_ and I have an issue with pride.”

The man leans forward, peering at them. “What happened?”

Saida grins. “She threw Commander Rumlow to the ground, mid demonstration.”

The man gapes. “How?”

Annie pokes at her fries. “I might be former Special Forces.”

“Then why were you in the beginner class?” Saida demands. 

Annie shrugs. “I have no idea. Deputy Director Hill said it was a clerical error.”

The woman across from her shifts in her seat, flushing. “That might be my fault,” she says. She holds out a well manicured hand, nails painted a pleasant peach. “Isabelle Petrovitch,” she introduces herself, “Human Resources. I assigned the self defence classes and I don’t have access to your full file. Sorry.”

Annie shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you and don’t worry about it.” She turns back to Saida. “What happened after I left?”

Saida shrugs. “Nothing. The Commander ran after you and Lieutenant Rollins dismissed the class. Did he catch you?”

Annie shakes her head. “No. I, uh, sort of went straight to the Deputy Director’s office.”

The man beside her blinks. “Wow. Why are you hanging with the lackies if you can just walk into the Deputy Director’s office?”

It’s probably not a good idea to tell people she and Maria are cousins. That sort of status might get her treated differently and she needs to be on speaking terms with the majority of the people on base if she’s to have any kind of social life. 

“I’m the only med staff who’s here 24/7,” she answers instead. “I have full access to Deputy Director Hill that I might have taken advantage of.”

The man laughs. “You’re braver than I am. The Deputy Director is terrifying. Cameron Klein, by the way.”

Annie shakes his hand. “Stephanie Jones, but you can call me Annie.”

After that, it’s a round of introductions. Ben Pollack of the I.T. department and office administrator Claire Wise are sickeningly adorable Soulmates; data analyst Greg Gail tells a hilarious story of being caught, by Tony Stark, of all people, playing Galaga on the Helicarrier; Elizabeth Albee keeps the bio-scientists in line with an almost motherly air; Lillian Larson is a brilliant Stark accountant assigned to the team keeping the base financially solvent; Isabelle has a sense of humor that would make a sailor blush; Saida has the best puns; and Cameron reminds her strongly a labrador retriever. They’re good people, Annie decides, and she likes them.

“Who do I talk to about specialized immunoboosters for field agents?” she asks as she’s finishing the last of her fries. 

“Dr. Jemma Simmons,” Elizabeth answers quickly. “She's the head of the Biomedical Research Labs and very nice.”

“Will she be in her lab later this afternoon?”

Elizabeth briefly checks her phone, then nods. “She has a meeting at 3 but she’ll be there after that. If you need to talk to someone before that try Dr. Crawford. She’s the assistant director of the bio labs.”

Annie smiles. “Thanks. Well, I gotta get back to med-bay. Come visit me anytime.”

The assembled office workers wave goodbye and Annie ditches her tray at the return station. One of the cooks, a round Chinese man with kind black eyes, smiles at her and waves her off when she offers to help, taking the tray loaded with dishes and disappearing into the kitchen. 

Annie leaves the mess with a smile. Besides The Unpleasantness, as she’s privately calling her Matching that morning, being in the Avengers’ Compound isn’t too bad. She finally got the Infirmary just how she likes it and she’s been told that her word is Law inside the high tech medical suites; Maria trusts Annie knows when to cede authority to the doctors. 

The Compound is all clean chrome and much airier than most bases or hospitals. There are windows everywhere, taking advantage of the natural light and negating the standard stuffiness of military complexes. Even better, her dorm room is less dorm and more apartment, a luxury when compared to the usual military housing. It has a spacious living room, a separate bedroom, comfortable private bathroom, and - her favorite part - a walk-in closet. All it’s missing is a kitchen, but Annie doesn’t mind. She loves food but she’s not much of a cook. 

Her apartment is off the Infirmary, one of the living room doors set right behind the Nurse’s Station. She likes it, the being on-call 24/7 if anyone needs her. That might be something for the minus column, come to think of it, but Annie has always been a bit of a workaholic. And she loves to feel needed. 

Best of all, the rest of her stuff showed up late last night. Next step is unpacking the boxes - soon as her shift ends.

She’s playing “Rx (Medicate)” by Theory of a Deadman, reviewing the medical files for permanent base residents, boots propped up on the Nurse’s Station desk, when someone dramatically pushes open both of the Infirmary’s swinging doors. 

“ _Hey, Doc,”_ a deep Australian voice booms, “ _do you have any painkillers?_ ”

“ _I_ _’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse,”_ she snaps absently, then freezes. Slowly, she raises her head. 

The stupidly tall Lieutenant Rollins stands in front of her Nurse’s Station, beaming down at her. Are all SHIELD’s agents unbelievably attractive? His cheekbones are jealousy inducing, and that boyish charm smile sends butterflies flitting through her stomach. And he’s her second Soulmate. Fuck.

“We Match?” he asks hopefully, eyes flicking to the edges of her sleeves where the last all-caps block letters of her Soulmarks are just visible, peeking out from her purple scrub top. 

She scowls, reminded of her first Matching and the pride eating she’ll have to endure later when she apologizes. “You and Rumlow are a pair. Great. What do you want?”

Rollins’ smile falters and guilt replaces the excited butterflies.

She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I can be a bitch but that’s no excuse. Can we start over?”

Rollins’ smile returns, smaller but no less genuine. “Sure, love. I’m Jack Rollins, Lieutenant Colonel of STRIKE, and your Soulmate.”

Annie grins. It’s hard not to smile when he looks at her like that. “I’m Annie Jones, newly arrived Senior Medical Officer of the Avengers’ Compound, and your Soulmate.

Jack’s face tinges pink and he ducks his head. “It’s good to hear you say that. I…”

Annie frowns when Jack goes silent, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s wrong?”

Jack swallows hard. “It’s a long story.”

Annie steps around the Nurse’s Station. Up close, Jack is almost a foot taller than her, dwarfs her. It makes her feel small but there isn’t a threatening hair on his head. She almost likes it, the way he makes her feel protected. 

“Tell me?” she asks softly. It’s her calming tone, the one she uses to coax recalcitrant patients.

Jack meets her steady gaze. His eyes are green, she realizes, cool and calm but intense. She can see how the stories about his murder face might be true. “He doesn’t know,” he says, almost a whisper, voice rough. 

Annie frowns. “What? How can he not?”

Jack laughs quietly. “I, uh, apparently my words are ‘Yes, sir,’ and, well, you know my handwriting. You’re kinda my confirmation.” 

“Oh Lord,” Annie breathes. “That is…”

“Yeah,” Jack snorts. “It’s not a great situation, love.”

Annie’s mouth twitches. “That is the understatement of the year. You didn’t tell him?”

Jack looks away. “How could I? He didn’t react at all and I didn’t even know he had a second Mark until today.”

“You thought you Matched but he didn’t,” Annie whispers, realization dawning. It is everyone’s worst nightmare: an unrequited Soulmark. “Oh, Jack.”

Her hand reaches up, gently touching his face. His eyes close, tension loosening from his shoulders. He tilts his head, leaning into her-

“HEY!”


	7. One Big Mess

“HEY!”

Jack jumps almost a foot in the air. 

Brock charges into the Infirmary, fire in his eyes, doors crashing into the wall behind him. He stumbles toward them like a rampaging bull. A drunk rampaging bull. 

“What the-?” Annie stares at Brock as if he’s grown a second head. Brock ignores her.

“What the fuck you think you’re doing?” Brock demands, glaring at Jack. “She’s my Soulmate!”

Jack opens his mouth to protest, try to explain, but Annie starts shouting. “Hey! Don’t yell at him!”

Brock doesn’t seem to hear her. “Fuck you, Rollins! 

“Rumlow!”

They’re both shouting, Brock using every swear word he knows to cuss Jack out for making moves on his Soulmate. Annie yells at Brock, furious that he dares yell at Jack. 

Fuck him dead. Is this going to be his life now?

"I’m gonna kick your ass!"

"You're being asinine!"

"She's my Soulmate-"

"You haven't earned-"

"You motherfucking-"

Jack turns away. He can feel a migraine starting. The Nurse's Station looks like a place that should have Excedrin. He opens one of the cabinets.

"Hey! Get the fuck out of my Nurse's Station!"

"Don't yell at him!" Brock slurs, voice rising if that is possible.

Annie's cheeks are flushed with rage and her black eyes flash dangerously. Jack backs away slowly from the Nurse's Station. He's not stupid enough to fight Annie. She has a vicious vibe. It's incredibly arousing but he's not about to tell her that. She has access to scalpels and drugs. 

Jack tries for a soothing tone, hands still raised. "Can we all try not yelling for a moment?"

Annie's expression darkens but she presses her lips together. Brock sways slightly but thankfully doesn't start yelling again which Jack takes for a good sign. In the silence Jack studies his Soulmates.

They are a beautiful pair, one Italian masculinity the other a stunning Black and Asian blend. How did he get so lucky? Now if only he can get them to get along.

Jack decides to start with Brock. "Rumlow, mate," he starts, "I need to tell you something."

"Oh?" Brock snarls. "You'd better have a damn good reason for making a move on my Soulmate."

"Of course he does," Annie snaps, "and you don't get to decide who I talk to."

"I'm your Soulmate!"

"You don't own me!"

"But we're-"

"We _all_ are, you dumbass!"

Jack sucks in air. Annie flushes, turning to him. "I'm sorry Jack. I'm sure that's not how you wanted to tell him."

Jack shakes his head. "It's alright, darl'," he says. It's good to have it out in the open. True, he had hoped to break it to Brock more gently, but this way is a little like ripping off a bandaid.

Brock, however, doesn't seem to quite understand. "What're you talking about?"

Jack takes a deep, steadying breath. "We're Soulmates," he says slowly, clearly. "I wasn't sure before because you never reacted to my Words but I've loved you for years. Then I Matched with Annie just now and I _knew_."

“We - we are?” Something like wonder brightens Brock’s face. He stares at Jack, slack jawed, eyes sparkling.

Heat crawls up Jack’s face and he shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, we are.” He glances at Annie beside Brock. “We all are.”

Brock follows his glance and a grin splits his face. “Thank God!”

Annie crosses her arms, one eyebrow rising. “What,” she snarks, “I’m not enough for you?”

Jack sees the corner of her mouth twitch but Brock doesn’t. He immediately flails helplessly. “I didn’t - that’s not what I meant. I just - you’re beautiful and of course you’re enough, but -”

“You do realize the word ‘but’ negates everything that came before, right?”

Jack shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “Quit fucking with him, darl’. Poor bastard drank himself stupid when you kicked his ass.”

Annie grins, sharklife. Brock blinks at her. “Oh. _Oh,_ that’s mean.”

“Next time don’t get drunk when you’re upset.”

Brock scowls at the floor. “You _rejected_ me.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “I was pissed at you. I’m _still_ pissed at you. You called me _girlie_. Do you know how fucking creepy that is for a young girl to have tattooed on her body? And then when you go into the Army? I never heard the end of it!”

Brock’s cheeks practically glow and he scuffs the floor with the toe of his combat boot, muttering incomprehensibly.

“What was that mate?” Jack asks, mouth twitching. When Brock drinks he’s almost adorable, Jack thinks, enjoying watching his Mate squirm. He can foresee Annie making Brock squirm a lot. 

“I only said it cause of my Mark,” Brock answers petulantly, lower lip almost pouting. Jack coughs to cover a laugh. 

Annie sighs. “Fine. We both fucked with each other. Never, _ever_ call me girlie again and we’re good. Now,” Annie steps away, motioning for Jack and Brock to follow her, “let’s get you on a saline drip. How much has he had?” she asks Jack.

“Two bottles of very bad whiskey.”

“Three,” Brock corrects, stumbling and almost falling as he follows Annie through the infirmary. Jack catches him by the bicep, holding the shorter man up.

“You need to find healthier coping mechanisms,” Annie informs him.

Jack grunts, maneuvering Brock onto the hospital bed she points at. He considers removing Brock’s boots but, honestly, he doesn’t need to faint from the stench. 

Annie returns - he wasn’t even aware she walked away; maybe he should suggest bells tied to her laces? - wheeling an IV stand and holding a needle. Jack looks away, ignoring the shadow of his old fear of needles, focusing instead on Brock’s face.

Brock. His Mate. Bloody hell. He looks back at Annie. 

Annie and Brock and Jack. A Triad. They are his and he is theirs and this is the best day of his life. Better than when he qualified for pilot training by an inch. Better than when Fury pulled his ass from the Triskelion rumble and he realized his Hydra undercover days were officially over. Better than anything he has ever experienced in his _life._

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts, looking between Brock and Annie, smiling dopily.

Annie raises an eyebrow. “Of course we are.” She looks at Brock lying back in the hospital bed. “Is he always like this?”

Brock nods. “He’s the nice one.”

“He has a Murder Face.”

“Ah huh,” Brock grins. “Isn’t he pretty?”

Annie’s expression softens. “You both are. I am a very lucky woman and I intend to rub it in everyone's faces.”

Anxiety Jack hadn’t realized was coiled around his heart loosens. “Yeah?”

Annie looks at him sharply. “Of course. And once he” - she jerks her head at Brock - “sufficiently grovels for being an ass, I intend for everyone to know I have two handsome badass Soulmates.”

The tension in Jack's shoulders release and he takes a deep breath. It has crossed his mind more than once that his stint in Hydra left his reputation in less than tatters. The fear his Soulmates would want nothing to do with him was forefront on his mind for two years, ever since he was able to rejoin SHIELD as second in command of the STRIKE units. 

He never expected in his wildest dream for his unknown Soulmate to be immediately okay with his history. But then, he grins, his missing Soulmate is anything but ordinary.


End file.
